The Curious Incident of the Cat in the Nighttime
by swatkat
Summary: Susan Meyer wasn't a stranger to feeling guilty. EdieSusan.


**Title:** **The Curious Incident of the Cat in the Night-time**  
**Fandom:** _Desperate Housewives_  
**Rating:** PG, I think  
**Words:** around 3200  
**Pairings:** Edie/Susan  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine. Just playing.  
**A/N:** Many, many thanks to JayBee for looking through this and for telling me about the show in the first place.  
**Summary:** Susan Meyer was not a stranger to feeling guilty.

Susan Meyer was not a stranger to feeling guilty.

Like all of us, Susan had her share of slip-ups in life: things she did and wished she hadn't done; things she said and wished she could take back; things she wished had never happened. And like all of us, when she thought about such things, Susan felt guilty. But lately, _nothing_ made her feel as guilty as she did when she looked across the street to her neighbour Edie Britt's house.

It was a newly-built house: beautiful; elegant. Edie had excellent taste. Susan, however, could never look at the place without that sick, sick feeling in her stomach that she _hated_. Susan had, you see, burnt down Edie's _previous_ house sometime ago.

It was an accident, of course – even if she did not have any business being there in the first place – and Susan _had_ confessed her crime to Edie. She couldn't have lived with herself if she didn't. And after a few… _incidents_, Edie had declared that she was no longer interested in pressing charges, because she did not want yet another investigation by her insurance company.

After that, they hung out together. Played poker and discussed the neighbourhood with the rest of the girls. Sniped at each other as usual. It would mean that things were back to normal between the two of them. Well, whatever passed for normal between the two of them, because it wasn't as if Susan was _friends_ with Edie.

Only that it wasn't, and Susan knew it. Knew it, because she _knew_ Edie, _knew_ that she couldn't possibly have let something like this go so easily. For starters, Edie hadn't deigned to invite Susan over to her new place to gloat, and when did Edie ever miss an opportunity to gloat?

'Never.' The grey tabby on her couch eyed her disdainfully, as if disgusted by the slowness of Susan's revelation.

It wasn't surprising. Everyone in Wisteria Lane knew Edie Britt, pets included.

The cat – Buddy – belonged to Mrs. Harper, who was currently out of town paying a visit to her son. She had begged Susan to watch over her darling sweet kittums in her absence, and despite not being much of a cat person herself, Susan couldn't bring herself to refuse. She had also gifted Susan with a batch of her famous muffins. And with Julie gone for the weekend, and Mike –

She wasn't going to think of Mike. That part of her life was _over_. She was moving _on_.

So with Julie gone for the weekend and the other girls busy with their own lives, Susan was left with the rather intimidating feline and her own mournful thoughts for company. It was depressing.

It wasn't as if Susan was _friends_ with Edie, certainly not. No matter how much circumstances seemed to push them together of late. Susan wasn't friends with Edie, but she did want to be forgiven. Forgiveness was important. Because she really had done a terrible thing, and how was she _ever_ going to live with herself if Edie never forgave her?

This was unbearable.

She switched on the television. Nothing seemed to be on.

She needed a drink.

Susan was contemplating the virtues of beer vs. wine when she heard the plaintive meow. The cat was in front of her door now, giving her a very suggestive Look. Even _he_ was bored in her company.

'Do let him out when he wants to, dear, or he might use the carpet,' Mrs. Harper had said, and Susan did not relish the idea of having cat poop on her precious carpet. Mrs. Harper had also pleaded with Susan to _make absolutely sure_ that he didn't go too far, because she didn't want anything to happen to her poor darling. She was almost in tears at that point, and so Susan had given her a reassuring smile and told her that _of course_ she would take proper care of him.

'Come on,' she told the cat, which leapt joyfully outside as soon as she opened the door.

It was a pleasant evening, Susan had to admit. Wisteria Lane was beautiful at night. It almost felt like a different place, one where things didn't go wrong so often; terrible secrets were never unearthed and everyone lived happily and peacefully.

The night air was doing wonders for her mood.

Susan decided to bask in that feeling; let out all the negativity. There had been enough negativity for one evening.

She closed her eyes; took a deep breath. Yes, it was a pleasant evening. The world was a pleasant place. She would thank Mrs. Harper later on for trusting her with her cat. It felt good to be trusted. She would also thank her once more for the muffins, even if she suspected they were meant to bribe her into agreeing to the catsitting duties.

Speaking of cats –

Susan opened her eyes again. She needed to make sure it hadn't gone 'too far'. She had made a promise, after all.

There was no cat.

'Buddy?' Susan called, slightly alarmed. Maybe it had wandered off a bit. 'Buddy!'

The cat seemed to have disappeared.

She searched her yard, and the adjacent ones. She tried looking up a tree. Susan wasn't much of an expert in feline habits, but cats were known to like trees. She raised her voice a little, to no effect. The cat did not magically reappear.

What if it had gotten lost somewhere? What would she tell Mrs. Harper? Susan could picture herself explaining matters to her neighbour; wringing hands while the little old lady sobbed uncontrollably. She wished Julie was here. Julie generally knew what to do in situations like this.

She wasn't going to panic. She was going to be calm and in control and look for the cat.

There was no cat anywhere near Mike's house (Susan barely managed to stop herself from knocking). It wasn't there at the Simmons' place, either. Susan even knelt down and checked the shrubbery, just to make sure it wasn't hiding in there somewhere.

'Buddy! Here kitty, kitty,' she called again, but the street appeared deserted. If the cat did hear her, it did not deign to respond. There was a reason, Susan thought, she did not particularly care for cats. Oh, _why_ had she not said no to Mrs. Harper while she had the opportunity to do so?

She stopped in front of Edie's house, suddenly feeling strangely apprehensive. Edie wouldn't approve of her being anywhere near her new house. In fact, Edie would be extremely pissed if she learnt that Susan had been anywhere near her new house.

But then, Susan reasoned, she also had her responsibility to Mrs. Harper. It wasn't as if she was going to break in and burn the place down again. She was merely going to look for the cat.

The lights weren't on at Edie's place. She was probably out on a date. Unlike Susan, but that was yet another depressing thought she wasn't going to entertain right now.

Edie's lawn was beautifully maintained. The sitting room – from what Susan could make out in the scant light – was tastefully decorated, as always. Edie believed in doing things in style.

Maybe she would take a look at the back as well.

The kitchen, unlike the rest of the house, was lit with a small lamp, but no one seemed to be in it. Susan gave the doorknob an experimental twist. It came open.

For all her life, Susan had struggled – and failed – to control one particular aspect of her nature: her curiosity. It made her do things no other person would dream of doing; it lead her to accidents only she could manage to have. And now, Susan was once more faced with the same struggle: would she walk away, as she should, or would she satisfy her curiosity?

Susan went in.

Edie had a nice kitchen. It was a lot like her _old_ kitchen, Susan thought, with a sudden stab of conscience.

She _was_ doing what would be considered snooping, but it wasn't as if Susan had any intention to _stay_. Or, heaven forbid, burn down the place again. She would just look around for a while and leave. Edie didn't have to know –

For all her life, Susan had struggled – and failed – to control _two_ particular aspects of her nature: one was her curiosity; the other was her clumsiness. It made her do things no other person would dream of doing; it lead her to accidents only she could manage to have.

'Crap,' Susan said as she tripped over the rug, making enough noise to wake up the entire neighbourhood.

She had probably just broken something, but she couldn't just lie there, not if Edie was upstairs, she had to get up and leave, she had to get up and leave _now_. Which she attempted to do, only to bump into – _something, shit, not again_ –

And then there were noises upstairs, rapid footsteps and an angry _who's there_ because _of course_ Edie was home, what was she _thinking_ –

'What the _hell_ – Meyer!'

Susan froze.

She turned around slowly to face Edie, who had a golf club in her hand. She was in a tiny slip that Susan would not, at any other time, hesitate to classify under 'slutty', and the expression on her face was a mix of shock, disbelief and just plain outrage.

'Edie! Hi!' Susan said, trying to smile. Her voice, she realised, was shriller than usual. 'I was just – '

'What are you doing in my kitchen?'

'Nothing, I was just – ', Susan said, trying to think up an effective excuse. 'The cat was in your kitchen and I know how much you hate animals, so I just thought I would – '

'You don't have a cat,' said Edie.

'Oh no, it's not mine – it's Mrs. Harper's,' Susan quickly clarified. 'She wanted me to watch it while she was out of town, and then the cat ran away and came here. And I know how much you would hate that so I… came in.'

She tried to muster a winning smile, and failed, utterly. Edie glared.

'Oh please, that's such a pathetic excuse. You burn down my house, then you _lie_ to me about it, and now that I finally have another house you _break in_ and _lie to me again_ and then expect me to buy that?'

'I – ' Susan didn't know what to say. Edie was right. She had been nosy and she had broken in. There was no point in lying.

'You're right. I'm sorry,' she said, holding up her hands in surrender. 'I shouldn't have come in. I'll go now.'

With that, Susan turned to leave. This was a complete disaster. She had broken in and Edie was pissed, and what was left there to say? So she was quite surprised when she heard Edie say: 'Wait!'

'What?'

'You want a drink? said Edie, her expression casual. 'I was going to have one myself,' she shrugged.

Susan couldn't think of a reason to refuse, so she said, 'Sure.'

A couple hours and some expensive wine later, Susan was feeling pleasantly warm and content on Edie's couch. Edie, as it turned out, was actually mellowed by drink. They were almost being friendly. Well, as friendly as possible with _Edie_.

She was, Susan admitted, pretty good company. Witty, funny, in a way Susan had always known she would be when she wasn't busy being the Neighbourhood Bitch and Susan's personal nemesis.

They had done this once before. This, drinking together. Edie had been nice to her that evening, in her way. The evening had ended with Edie kissing Paul Young while Susan crawled out of his house, hoping no one would notice, and while that was something Susan had no intention of repeating ever again, she could certainly do with more of this. Certainly.

'I really am sorry, you know,' she told Edie. She was, she realised, feeling a bit sentimental.

'For what?'

'Everything,' Susan said. 'This – breaking in. And burning down your house. I'm sorry for all the trouble I've caused you.'

Edie was looking at her with curious, speculative expression on her face. It made Susan nervous. They were sitting pretty close, and if Susan just reached out she could touch the long muscles of Edie's neck with her fingertips.

'I love the curtains', Susan said, because conversation was suddenly of extreme importance. 'Great colours. I was actually thinking getting new ones myself.'

Edie was still _looking_. Susan fought the sudden urge to wet her lips. They were sitting close, too close, and it simply wasn't fair that Susan couldn't move away, couldn't think at all and only watch Edie with a weird sort of fascination as she purposefully placed her glass on the coffee table. And then Edie was leaning in, breath warm on her face and then she was kissing her.

'Edie!' said Susan when she could finally speak. It came out as a squeak.

'What?' said Edie, looking mildly irritated. Her hands were still on Susan's waist.

'You just - '

'What, you thought I didn't notice the way you have been looking at me all evening?' Edie smirked.

'I haven't – I didn't – ' She was blushing _and_ stammering. This was awkward.

Edie was _looking_ at her again, eyes narrowed. 'God, you're an idiot,' she said.

Arms tightened around her then, and Edie's lips were on hers again, hot, and just right. Susan reached out and touched the soft skin on Edie's neck.

Susan Meyer was not a stranger to feeling guilty.

Like all of us, Susan had her share of slip-ups in life: things she did and wished she hadn't done; things she said and wished she could take back; things she wished had never happened. And like all of us, when she thought about such things, Susan felt guilty. But that night, while drifting off to sleep on Edie's plush new bed in Edie's brand new bedroom, Susan didn't feel guilty at all.

That is, until she remembered the cat.

_End_

**A/N:** No cats were harmed in the writing of this story.


End file.
